pted old Tabaret, "was just asking myself what was
likely to be the attitude assumed by the viscount at the moment of his
arrest. Nothing is more important, according to my idea, than his manner
of conducting himself then. Will he fly into a passion? Will he attempt
to intimidate the agents? Will he threaten to turn them out of the
house? These are generally the tactics of titled criminals. My opinion,
however, is, that he will remain perfectly cool. He will declare himself
the victim of a misunderstanding, and insist upon an immediate interview
with the investigating magistrate. Once that is accorded him, he will
explain everything very quickly."

The old fellow spoke of matters of speculation in such a tone of
assurance that M. Daburon was unable to repress a smile.

"We have not got as far as that yet," said he.

"But we shall, in a few hours," replied M. Tabaret quickly. "I presume
you will order young M. de Commarin's arrest at daybreak."

The magistrate trembled, like the patient who sees the surgeon deposit
his case of instruments upon the table on entering the room.

The moment for action had come. He felt now what a distance lies between
a mental decision and the physical action required to execute it.

"You are prompt, M. Tabaret," said he; "you recognize no obstacles."

"None, having ascertained the criminal. Who else can have committed this
assassination? Who but he had an interest in silencing Widow Lerouge,
in suppressing her testimony, in destroying her papers? He, and only he.
Poor Noel! who is as dull as honesty, warned him, and he acted. Should
we fail to establish his guilt, he will remain de Commarin more than
ever; and my young advocate will be Noel Gerdy to the grave."

"Yes, but--"

The old man fixed his eyes upon the magistrate with a look of
astonishment.

"You see, then, some difficulties, sir?" he asked.

"Most decidedly!" replied M. Daburon. "This is a matter demanding the
utmost circumspection. In cases like the present, one must not strike
until the blow is sure, and we have but presumptions. Suppose we are
mistaken. Justice, unhappily, cannot repair her errors. Her hand once
unjustly placed upon a man, leaves an imprint of dishonour that can
never be effaced. She may perceive her error, and proclaim it aloud,
but in vain! Public opinion, absurd and idiotic, will not pardon the man
guilty of being suspected."

It was with a sinking heart that the old fellow listened to these
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